


Glorious Purpose

by HyJackedYerFandom



Category: Dark Knight Rises (2012), Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-27
Updated: 2013-01-27
Packaged: 2017-11-27 04:42:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/658122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HyJackedYerFandom/pseuds/HyJackedYerFandom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Holy Pissed Off Lover, Batman!!  Once in the Pit, Bruce Wayne meets a surprising ally in his fight to save his city.  But this ally has a steep price and secrets upon secrets.  Is the fate of his city worth losing the muscle behind the mastermind??</p><p>(Hiatus, January 2015)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Glorious Purpose

_He woke up in his cell; confused yet again and at a loss to why he was here.  It was the sheer agony of his broken back that reminded him.  Of the pain.  Of Gotham.  Of Bane and his evil deeds.  The sheer magnitude of the madman’s belief was indescribable.  He sobbed out a pained breath and stilled when a soft sound reached his ears._

_“You cannot see him.  You know the consequences if you disobey The Order.” An older voice – the voice of the doctor in the next cell.  He spoke English??  Bruce frowned and strained his ears to listen._

_“He is our hope out of here.  You know I am the only hope to save his city.” A young voice, soft but masculine.  “He believes me to be dead.  It is the only reason he does what he does now.”  This young man could save his city??  He had to move!  He had to ask his help!  Beg if necessary!_

_“Be that as it may, if he sees you...  If he knows you and what you can do, it’ll be the end of you!!  I cannot have that on my conscience.”_

_“Neither of them deserves to suffer like this!” The young voice whispered fiercely.  “None of us do!  So what if it’ll mean I have to face my death then so be it!  If I can save him from himself, from the League then I must!”  The young man panted from his enraged whisper._

_“You.  Will.  Die.”  The doctor said.  “And you expect me to aid you in this insanity??”_

_The quiet was suddenly stifling.  It suffocated them all in the cell.  Distantly he could hear the other prison mates shuffling around, or murmuring in their sleep.  The dark was oppressive now – what he had taken sanctuary in once had now become what he sought sanctuary from.  In the darkness, every sound was heightened to screaming levels._

_“I expect you to atone for your own mistakes.  And I expect you to help Wayne climb that wall.”_

_“And you?  What will you do?  As you are told?”_

_“Hardly.  I am a ghost, after all.”  The young man’s voice was dry and sardonic.  “The time has come to break free of the walls they put me in.  He needs me.”_

_“He has always needed you, Al'Shabah Al-Abyad.  Even when he was at his lowest, it was your face he sought in the darkness.  When he had given up, it was your name on his lips.”  The doctor said.  A few moments passed before he continued, “I will do as you ask.  But when the city man leaves, you must leave with him.  You are needed in his Gotham.”_

_“I will leave.  And leave you all a way out.”  The young man’s voice was soft in its sincerity.  “I will not leave you trapped here.”_

_He struggled to stay awake.  The pain was near unbearable now.  Sleep was sucking at him like a vacuum.  A soft sound – like a patting on the shoulder or head – echoed in the small cell._

_“You are a good boy, Al'Shabah Al-Abyad.  It is you who will live past your father’s expectations, and rise to rule them all.  They should have never underestimated you.”  The doctor said._

_“Perhaps.  Perhaps I have my own atonement to make.”_

_And finally sleep won the battle over his senses._

Dark brown eyes snapped open suddenly, searching his cell now in the daylight for the mysterious boy.  His cell mate was not there, however the doctor was watching him with accusing eyes.  Struggling to move so he could face the doctor, he smothered his pain away so he could get answers.

“The boy.  Who was he?”  Bruce asked harshly.  “How can he help my city?”

The doctor glared at him, sneering before turning his attention to the cell doors.  Away from Bruce.

“Answer me!”  Bruce yelled.  “I know you can speak English!  Who was the boy and how can he help?”

The doctor continued to glare at the cell doors, muttering under his breath in Arabic now.

“You do not have much time, Bruce Wayne.”  Came a voice from the shadows.  Whipping his head around, Bruce cried out in agony as it tweaked his back.

“Do not move so much, Bruce Wayne.  In a few moments, your cell mate will return to set your back.  I will do what I can to make the healing faster.”  The voice paused, and Bruce could swear that the darkness shifted in unease.  “I can do nothing for the pain.  My gifts only go so far in this place.”

“Perhaps pain will make his soul stronger.”  The doctor muttered with a glower at the figure in the darkness.  “A little pain can, perhaps, go a long way.”

The figure that stepped out of the darkness angrily, swathed in a dark cloak that covered him from head to foot, was rather short.  Perhaps 5ft 6in tall, with a delicate build.  The material of the cloth covering him was eerie and unsettling.  It seemed to float upon vapors that couldn’t be seen or felt, and only left the pale skin of his forehead, around his eyes, and the bridge of his nose visible. 

Pale white skin accented light Peridot eyes, so light a green they almost had no color at all.  Bruce could see a lightning bolt scar on his forehead, even paler than his white skin.  Even his hands were covered by the inky, black material of his cloak.  Upon closer inspection, Bruce could actually see that his hands and fingertips were wrapped in the same material, only the fingertips of his fingers visible from the tattered black fabric.

“You dare say such a thing now; when the hour is upon us??”  The voice was a strident; clear sound now, still young, but obviously commanding.

Even while the doctor seemed to cringe away from the figure, he defended his words.

“Pain is cleansing to the soul-“

“He’s right.”  Bruce grunted, struggling to sit up and face this new comer.  “I can handle the pain.  It’ll make me more focused.”

The shadowed man made a sound of disgust before sighing in resignation.

“It is what it is.  I cannot stop the pain, I can only speed the healing.  The rest is up to you.”

Bruce frowned at the young man, struggling to identify him. 

“Your accent.”

“I was born and raised mostly in Britain.”  The dark figure said softly.  “After my father found me in less than satisfactory conditions, he raised me.  My accent is mostly influenced by Britain, Tibet, and Arabia, with perhaps a little of everything else.”

“What’s your name?”  Bruce asked softly, frowning at the young man.  “And why are you dressed like that?”

“You can call me Harry.  And I wear this to protect my skin.”  Stepping forward into the light more, Harry pulled down his cowl and removed his hood. 

Pure white hair framed a pale white face, wavy and layered to hide the sharp definitions of his face.  A beautiful boy, Bruce realized a tad uncomfortably.  Just that one step away from being mistaken for a woman.  Bruce realized now that Harry’s eyebrows, which had been visible, were white as well.  The scar on his forehead was still paler than his flesh already, but deep as if it had been down to the bone.

“An albino?”  Bruce asked.  “Here?”

“It’s a genetic condition, Bruce Wayne.  Mixed in with strange circumstances and even stranger theories.  Succinct to say, this is my father’s legacy.  I wear the cloak to protect my skin from harmful rays here.  As I said, my gifts don’t work to their full capacity here.”  Harry sneered slightly at the stone walls and bars.  “Something to do with the minerals in the rock here, I suppose.”

“How old are you?  How do you think you can help my city?”  Bruce demanded.

“I am older than I look.  I was born July 31st, 1980.”  Harry said, coming to stand at the foot of Bruce’s bunk.  “And I can help your city…by saving Bane.” 

“Saving Bane?  That monster?!”  Bruce growled out, before jerking back in startled shock as Harry was suddenly _right there_ in his face.

“Bane is no more a Monster than you yourself are, Bruce Wayne.  Once you were a member of the League yourself.  Bane is a product of his own misery and helplessness used against him.”  Harry snarled out, light green eyes almost burning in their intensity.  “Perhaps you would like to face judgment for your own crimes first?  Are you guiltless?  Have you not sinned?”

“Calm yourself, Al'Shabah Al-Abyad.  He knows only what he’s seen.  He cannot reason for what you know.”  The doctor said softly.

Harry pulled away, taking a breath and letting it out slowly.  Bruce stared at the surprisingly young face in front of him and wondered how long he’d been in this prison.

“I have been in this prison for 15 years, Bruce Wayne.  This time.  Shall I tell you my story, Bruce Wayne?  Or would you rather get to your feet and save your precious city?”  Harry asked, snidely at the last.

Bruce frowned at Harry, wondering his ulterior motives.  What other reason could Harry have to escape?  Why would he leave a way for these prisoners to escape themselves??  Why was he so concerned with Bane himself?? 

And would it be worth it??

**Author's Note:**

> Cut and Edited Excerpt from Wikipedia (I don't want to give TOO much away now):
> 
> Dusan al Ghul - He was also referred to as Al'Shabah Al-Abyad (Arabic: الشبح الأبيض), meaning "the White Ghost". Though little is known about his past, it is stated that he was born out of a union meant to strengthen his father's hold over "some long-extinct people", suggesting that he was older than his father's other children. As an albino, he was never considered a potential heir to his father's empire. 
> 
> Some long-extinct people? Wow, that opened a whole lotta doors!!


End file.
